


Always Expect the Unexpected

by Baskervillehound1864, savydestiel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Co-Alphas, Dragon!Parrish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Peter is less of an asshole, Post-Nogitsune, Slow Build Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Spark!Stiles, alpha!Derek, cute stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baskervillehound1864/pseuds/Baskervillehound1864, https://archiveofourown.org/users/savydestiel/pseuds/savydestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Stiles was possessed by the Nogitsune, he can't stop seeing Allison everywhere. To cope with his guilt he takes up training with Deaton and slowly begins to pull away from the pack. His only friend being the one and only ex-psycho Peter Hale.</p><p>During one of his sleepless nights, Stiles goes jogging and meets an unexpected creature. Suddenly all the packs attention is focused on him and that includes one brooding Alpha Derek Hale.  </p><p> </p><p>Btw: Some tags have changed</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Try, Try Again

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you guys like this!

 

 

"Come on dude, we've been at it for  _hours_!" 

"Stiles, I've told you until you can s _uccessfully_ cast this spell, you cannot leave."

Deaton had been brutal this past couple weeks, training with Stiles hours on end until he could barely think. But it gave him an easy escape, something he could control and be able to put away his dark thoughts for a while. Plus Stiles had needed the practice. He no longer wanted to be the defenseless human, he wasn't going to be a victim anymore. 

"Come on! I'm exhausted Deaton, I can practice by myself." he whines.

"You've done this before, and unless you have decided you'd rather leave yourself defenseless... I suggest you try again." 

At his words Stiles closes his mouth but gives a grumble and shakes himself clear of any stray thoughts. Which is no small feat considering he hasn't taken Adderall in over a month. Then he concentrates on what he wants to happen, tapping into his Spark and forcing it to his fingers and releases. Which did nothing to Deaton, but did make his own sleeve catch on fire. Making Stiles flail around until it went out, leaving the hems burnt.

"You weren't concentrating." 

Stiles makes a strangled noise and flails his arms around again. "I'm working as hard as I can over here Deaton. It's not exactly a walk in the park." 

"Then. Try. Again." Deaton states simply. 

Stiles grumbles again and mutters a 'fine' before he shakes out his arms and begins again. ' _You want me to concentrate, I'll show you concentration.' He closes his eyes and begins to breath slowly, feeling his pulse race through his body. Clearing all his thoughts and focusing on the tingling sensation that comes from using his natural power. He pushes that power to his fingertips, holding it there as if it were building up. He exhales slowly and releases it all in a wave of force that knocks right into Deaton. Sending him flying through the trees landing on the forest floor._

Deaton sits up with a soft groan and looks over at Stiles in astonishment. Stiles plasters a huge grin on his face and gives a thumbs up before fishing his keys out of his pocket. Grabbing his backpack he calls out his farewell and begins his journey through the Preserve and back to his Jeep. He knew leaving Deaton was a little rude but he was too exhausted to care. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles had been driving back and forth on this road since the first time Deaton had agreed to mentor him. They always practiced in the outskirts of the Preserve as to not be disturbed. Deaton had been worried about how much power Stiles could muster, and didn't want anyone caught in the crossfire.

 By now he knew exactly how many minutes passed before he crossed into Beacon Hills, and how much time he had each day to get home before his dad did. Today there was no rush because his dad was working late, so he didn't speed by the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign like he usually would. When he does crossover to Beacon Hills, his mind goes on autopilot. Which usually doesn't end well, because when he's not focused on the road, he's in his head. Reliving the past and diving into his own guilt. 

Around this time is when he sees her out of the corner of his eye. Sitting in the passenger seat, right next to him, is Allison. Logically, he knows shes not actually there. He knows this is his minds way of subconsciously letting him cope with his guilt. 

_"Do you remember...what it was like before? Before the supernatural became real?" She asks him._

"Vaguely." He mutters tightening his hands on the wheel. 

_"Do you remember what it was like before you ruined your bestfriends life? Before you killed me?" She asks in a sickly sweet tone laced with malice._

Stiles shudders at the memory, gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He hated this, the nightmares, the hallucinations, the voices crowding his mind. But all of it was better than facing the pack, so he let it happen. 

_"Do you care that you killed me **Stiles**?" _  He turns his head when she spits his name and finally sees what sick version of her his brain has come up with. This time she's wearing white, stained with the blood coming out of a would in her stomach. 

_"Is this what you wanted? The power to kill your friends and everyone you love!?" She screams._

"I never wanted this, Ally." He whispers. 

His eyes drift back to the road when he feels her hand on his cheek. She wipes at a tear that falls but it doesn't do anything. He knows this isn't real, but he doesn't pull away either. 

_"Are you sure? Because you let it happen..."_

As she disappears, Stiles is brought out of his trance by oncoming lights, blinding him momentarily making him swerve in and out of his lane. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He makes it home without seeing her again.  

 

He pulls into his empty driveway and slowly makes his way into the house. He throws his bag next to his discarded sneakers and grabs a leftover slice of pizza before trudging upstairs. When he makes it to his room he slams the door and throws himself onto his bed. Immediately falling asleep, half eaten pizza still in his hands.

 


	2. Hidden things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a nightmare and goes running. 
> 
> Possible trigger warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow we are so amazed at the amount of people reading this!

 

 

_He feels the blade pierce his gut._

 

_He know that when he looks down his blood will run black._

 

__He can hear static ringing through his ears blocking out everything else._ _

 

 _"_ _How does it feel...?" She whispers, gliding her hand up his chest to grasp his neck._

 

_Allison pulls his head closer to her, as she shoves the blade deeper. The pain so immense._

 

_Her lips touch his ear when she speaks "...Knowing what I felt."_

 

_She pulls away sneering at him, blood drips from his chin. He chokes back a sob at her hollowed eyes, wishing this would just end._

_"Why...Ally? P-please." He chokes out._

_He looks down and sees his black blood rushing out around the blade. He moves his hands to the blood pushing it back in._

 

_Then it all stops._

 

_The pain is gone, with it the blade. But Allison is still standing in front of him, the same as the day she died._ _The static is gone, replaced by loud, pounding footsteps crunching on gravel. Getting closer and closer._

_He turns around in a circle but no one is there. Allison is gone too._

_Then he hears it. The wet breathing behind him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up._

 

_"I've been waiting for you Stiles." He closes his eyes._

 

_That voice. He knows it, remembers it, **hates** it._

 

_"No. You're gone." He shakily gets out._

 

_"I've never left."_

 

_Stiles turns his head and stares right into the serrated mouth of the Nogitsune._

 

_And screams._

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Stiles bolts upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and panting. He has to blink several times to understand where he is.

Sighing, he slams back down onto his pillow, and unsurprisingly it's also drenched with sweat. With a groan he sits up throwing the half eaten pizza still in his hand and swings his legs over the side of the bed, his toes digging into the carpet. He combs his fingers through his hair letting out an exasperated breath. This happens every night when he goes to sleep, he can never escape.

He stands up, still in his exercise clothes from his training with Deaton, and peers out of his room and walks towards his dads door and peeks into his room. Stiles can see the snoring lump under the covers. Good so he didn't wake him. He gives a small smile before slowly backing away.

Sneaking down the stairs as quietly as possible for him, he heads for the living room. He bends down and grabs his hoodie and sneakers before slipping out the front door. 

This was a regular occurrence for Stiles. He'd go to sleep, wake up an hour or so later after a nightmare unable to fall back asleep, then go running. It was a miracle his dad had been working the night shift lately. Leaving him to wander the Preserve or streets without having to worry about his dad sending a search party.

Another thing that wasn't uncommon for Stiles to encounter on his late night excursions was the occasional company of Peter. Yes, that Peter. Undead, power hungry, yet surprisingly understanding. Him and Stiles had run into each other one night at the cemetery, both there to mourn the loss of the deaths they caused. After that they'd kind of bonded, and one thing led to another and now they were sort of...friends? Not really friends, more like acquaintances sharing emotional support. 

Stiles knew it was idiotic to trust the guy who tried to kill his best friend, but what could he say? He did trust him to a point. Peter knew what it was like to feel dead inside, although it was more of a literal thing in his case. But this way Stiles got to let out some of his guilt in a more 'healthy' way ( instead of hallucinations and nightmares). And frankly Peter had felt the same way. 

At first they didn't really talk. Just nodding at each other in acknowledgment at the cemetery, and slowly over a couple weeks they started saying 'hello' and then actually striking up conversation. Stiles would tell him how it felt to know he caused so much pain and death. And Peter would recall how it felt to be crazy. Crazy enough to kill his own niece and how the guilt hit him like a train one night. Some nights they'd just sit together in the  quiet of the Preserve, slightly touching shoulders. Both of them outcasts, one out of choice, the other by dismissal. They would never admit it, but they enjoyed each others company. Even with the sarcasm and witty banter.

***

By the time Stiles had focused on where he was, he realized his feet had brought him here. The cemetery.

He slows to a walk and heads straight for Allison's headstone. He brushes his fingers over the smooth marble surface bending down, tracing the letters with his index. 

 

_Allison Argent_

_Beloved Daughter and friend_

 

 

But she was so much more than that he thinks. She was beautiful, and brave and kind and  **loved**.

And he killed her, he did this to her. To her family, to Scott, oh god Scott. He- 

 He's brought out of his mini panic attack by the snap of a branch. He whips his head around and sees him standing there. hands in his pockets. If he knew better, he'd think Peter was nervous. After a minute he gives him a nod and turns back towards the headstone. He pats the top of it before standing up and turning to face him. Stiles gives a little half smile and steps towards him. "Hey." he says quietly. 

"You good?" Peter says gripping Stiles shoulder gently. 

Stiles nods but doesn't say anything else. He nods back and lets go before looking in the direction of the woods.

They walk together in silence for a long time until they get to the lookout. Seeing all the lights of Beacon Hills' nightlife.

"You look like shit." Peter states simply. 

Stiles smirks and shrugs. "That's what happens when you sleep exactly zero hours a night." 

Peter chuckles and turns towards him shoving his hands in his pockets again. Stiles raises his eyebrows and waits for him to work up the courage to say something. 

He lets out a sigh before averting his eyes. "I...I'm thinking of leaving. Going somewhere less dull. Don't get me wrong this place is an epitome of action, but I'm tired of dealing with the bullshit. Plus the blatant disregard from my own family isn't as fun as I make it out to be." Peter finally gets out with his usual snark. 

"Where would you go?" Stiles asks quietly. What Stiles doesnt say makes his head spin. Of course the only person he can actually talk to is leaving him.

"That's a good question." He mutters.

 

After a few more minutes, they both sit down. Close enough to where their shoulders just touch, each craving human contact, well mostly human. 

Stiles thought about his life right then. How it had come down to him bonding with an undead murderer, instead of going to his best friend, or even his dad. And now even Peter was leaving his life.

But he couldn't face Scott, couldn't see the sadness that he had caused. Even though he couldn't help it, Scott still blamed Stiles for killing Allison. Hell Stiles even blamed Stiles. But he just couldn't.

Telling his dad was just out of the question. He didn't need to freak him out, or get sent back to Eichen House. His dad had enough on his plate already. 

 

Instead of saying literally anything else, he blurts out "I saw her today." 

Peter looks at him with his eyebrows raised. 

"It's getting...It's like I can't get a break. I see her everywhere. I hear her talking to me and...him. It's like my one mistake completely destroyed everyone I love. I don't... I don't know how long I can handle this. It feels like I'm being reminded everywhere I go, no matter what I do."

When Stiles eyes started to water at his rambled confession, Peter wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer. 

"I just wish they had killed me when they had the chance." He whispers. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and Kudos!


	3. Going

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be a little longer than usual (Hopefully it will stay that way)!  
> Btw we are so sorry for not posting in like almost a month ahh!

Stiles woke up in his room to the sunrise.

 

He sat up in his tangled blanket for a second time that morning and looked towards his door at the approaching sound of foot steps. His dad peeked his head around the door and gave him a small, sleepy smile. "Morning. You hungry?" 

Stiles slowly bobbed his head with an equal smile, squinting his eyes to the light streaming through his window. His dad nodded and disappeared behind the door. "You better not eat any bacon!" he called after him. He heard a loud grunt from downstairs, and smiled softly to himself. At least this part of his life was somewhat normal still. 

After pulling himself up out of bed, he trudged to the bathroom. He walked in with his head down and closed the door with his foot. When he looked up to the mirror he flinched at his reflection. Stiles had been avoiding mirrors for the very purpose of trying to not see himself. He looked terrible, with two bruise like bags under his eyes and a face that screamed guilt.  

He couldn't bear to break his dads heart by telling him what was going on. His dad would ask about the menacing dark circles under his eyes, and why he spaced out sometimes. But Stiles just blamed it on staying up too late. It was early summer after all so his dad didn't question it any  further. It was a miracle his dad hadn't dragged him to the hospital to have Melissa look at him.

Stretching his shoulder he started to get undressed and got into the warm shower. He turned up the temperature, hoping to burn away his mood and the sweat from last night. 

 ***

He got out of the shower feeling somewhat better, his mind on auto pilot the whole time. After he got dressed he fished through the pile of blankets for his phone, only to look up and see it on his computer desk. He sighed and grabbed it, slipping out of his room and down the stairs following the smell of bacon and pancakes. As he descended he sent Peter a text. 

**Stiles: You brought me home last night right??**

He put the phone in his pocket and walked over to the counter picking up a piece of bacon. His dad gave him a half-hearted glare before focusing back on the pancake batter. His pocket buzzed as he settled in his seat. 

**Peter: No, a complete stranger carried you through the woods and slipped you through your bedroom window at 2 in the morning.**

Stiles snorted and replied. 

**Stiles: Well thanks :)**

**Peter: Would you have rather slept in the dirt?**

**Stiles: Shut up**

He put his phone away when his dad slid a plate in front of him. Stiles smiled and dug in, he noticed his dad was already in his uniform. 

"I have to go in a little earlier today. Nothing to worry about." His dad ruffled his hair and walked towards the door, hooking his gun in its holster.

 "You sure nothings up?" He questioned.

His dad just gave him a nod and opened up the door. "You gonna hang out with Scott today?" 

Stiles tensed up and just about had a panic attack before he shook his head. "He's busy. Ya know...work and stuff." He got out quietly.

His dad just nodded with a solemn look and turned back around.

The frequent questions about Scott always put him in a panic. He always said Scott was working and the pack was busy doing family things. Which probably wasn't a lie, but he didn't  _actually_  know what was going on with them. He hadn't been talking to anyone, like at all. And no one seemed to mind. 

Stiles saluted him with his fork as his dad stepped onto the porch with a 'love ya'. 

He waited until after his dad closed the door, and he heard the cruiser pull away before he dumped his barely touched meal in the garbage. He took out his phone again and dialed Deaton's number and waited until the vet picked up. 

"Mr. Stilinski." He said in his monotone voice.

"Heyo Deaton, I wanted to grab that magical book thing you said I could practice with. You busy?" 

"I'm with a patient. But, yes come by in 15 minutes and you can  _borrow_  it." With that he hung up.

Stiles rolled his eyes at Deaton's usual behavior. You'd think after a while the guy would ease up a bit.

He headed back upstairs to change and grab his notebook. He used it to write down all the techniques that worked and the ones that definitely did not. When he gathered all his books and candles and such he headed towards the door. But before he could reach the handle he heard the familiar sliding of his window being opened. What he turned around to was so not what he expected.

 

Derek Fucking Hale was in his room. 

 

With a shriek (that was definitely not a girly one), he dropped everything in his hands and stood there with his jaw dropped. 

"Stiles." 

Stiles just stood there, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing, arms flailing. He didn't think he could speak ever again.

" _Stiles."_ Derek said a little more forcefully. 

"Um Wha- Hi?" He sputtered out lamely. 

Derek just rolled his eyes and stood there waiting for Stiles to say something a little more intelligent.

"Wha- uh what are you doing here? Like in my room. I mean we're not really friends and you kinda made it clear that I'm not in the pack after the whole-" Gulp "- Allison thing. But I mean if this is you coming to murder me, Deaton is expecting me so you know I should probably get going." He really hated that his hands had started shaking after he mentioned Allison. 

"I'm not here to murder you." 

Stiles just stared at him before shaking his head and gathering all his stuff from the ground. He didn't have the luxury of standing around all day, and Derek wasn't getting to a conclusion anytime soon. Not to mention his nerves had been shot the moment Derek had said his name. Because _fuck_  he missed hearing Derek's voice. 

But he'll be damned if he's gonna quit his vow of silence to the pack just because one of them decided to hop through his window. He had things to do, people to see. Well just Deaton. 

"Well its nice of you to stop by, but I'm off to 'see a man about a horse'." With all of his things back in his arms he turned around and made it approximately one step before Derek grabbed his shoulder.

 He didn't shiver at the contact or lean back into his hand. He didn't.

"It smells like Peter." Derek stated simply, when Stiles craned his head back. 

"Is that what you came here to tell me? Jealous much?" Stiles heartbeat quickened

"Why do you smell like eachother?"  Derek growled.

"If it was your business then you'd know. But since its not, royally fuck yourself and get out of my house." He shot back. 

He tugged out of Derek's grip and hurried downstairs, shoving his things in his backpack and grabbing his keys. He quickly locked the door and got in his jeep, pulling away with a scowl on his face. 

He didn't know why he was so angry. Well he did, but he didn't want to admit why.

Stiles didn't like it that Derek had only come to him because of Peter. He didn't ask how he was, didn't see if he was okay, didn't even say a simple 'hello'. Just straight to business, not exactly to the point, but nonetheless. And it pissed him off. It pissed him off because he wanted him to care. But he knew he didn't deserve it, and it pissed him off even more that he thought that someone would. 

 

By the time he got to Deaton's clinic he was fuming. 

He flung open the door and ignored the pointed look the lady with a cat gave him in the waiting room. He pushed passed the little wooden door and walked straight to the back room.

Deaton turned towards him with a raised eyebrow and pointed to the spot where the book lay. He grabbed it and turned on his heel, ready to get the hell away from civilization for a while. Before he could leave Deaton called him back in the room. 

"I suggest you clear your head before you try anything in that book." 

Stiles paused and turned back, nodding his head before he walked towards the front door.

"Easy for you to say." He muttered before getting into his car and driving away.

 

*** **  
**

 

 

"Your terrible at this." 

"Well you talking isn't helping any." Stiles snapped. Peter threw his hands up in surrender, going back to leaning on the tree. Stiles went back to the book focusing all of his energy to his hands, waiting for the tingling in his fingers to know when he's ready. He threw his hands to the nearest tree and-

Nothing.

Not a single damn thing. He's somehow gotten worse. Stiles grumbled loudly before he ran up to the tree and kicked it. Which was a terrible decision because, damn that hurt. He fell back onto the ground clutching at his throbbing foot. Peter walked over with a chuckle before bending down and pulling the pain away. Stiles could see his veins turn black before he let go and took a step back, hand outstretched for him to grab. 

"Remind me again why you're here?" Stiles mumbled.

Peter rolled his eyes and went back to leaning on his tree. "I came to watch you 'practice your Yoda skills' as you call them - and... to say goodbye." His eyes went to the ground at the last word. 

 Stiles stomach dropped, he tried to swallow past the lump that formed in his throat. He knew Peter was going. He'd told him so yesterday. But the fact that this was the end. That this time it was final. Hurt a lot more than he thought. He lost Allison, then the pack, and now Peter. He struggled to keep his eyes dry.

 He would'nt cry about Peter.

"Why do you have to leave?" Stiles said head bowed and struggling to keep his voice steady. 

He could hear Peter walk towards him slowly. He sat down next to Stiles and draped an arm over his shoulder. "I don't belong here. My family...Derek doesn't trust me. Everyone still looks at me like a power hungry psychopath."

"You are a power hungry psychopath." Stiles teased lightheartedly.

Peter chuckled and squeezed him closer. Stiles nestled his head in the crook of Peters neck, causing a hum of approval. "I'll come by-later." 

"Can't get enough of me, huh?" 

"Something like that." He chuckled again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So the updating schedule is gonna be weird.


End file.
